I Anticipate In Forensics
I swear I don't spend my Saturday's cutting up dead people. Believe it or not, that's usually one of the first things I must explain to people when I tell them I participate in forensics. I've had many of great experiences with forensics, as well as a few that were less than ideal –to say the least- throughout my years competing. The combination of the two has been a large part of who I am though, and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. The forensics I enjoy is a lot different than what you might see on at a crime-scene investigation. My type of forensics involves choosing an event, picking out a selection of materials to perform (referred to as your “piece”), and then competing in front of judges for three rounds. If you do well
…show more content…
in these three rounds, you move on to the finals (referred to as “breaking”).
As an awkward kid with a penchant for funny voices, I was naturally drawn to forensics in high school. Peculiar people find themselves involved in forensics, much like socks with no match somehow end up in the same drawer. Coincidentally, a forensics meet is the only place you'll see lines of people screeching at a wall, and no one thinking twice about it. To continue the sock analogy, sometimes two socks will realize that, while they don't match, they still work well together. My sophomore year, I paired up with Emma Price to compete in duo, a memorized partner event. That year, we both realized that working together was both more challenging and more rewarding, and we've been doing forensics together ever since.
We also determined that neither of us was very responsible about planning ahead. When we put our heads together and worked on something, the results had the potential for grandeur, but actually getting to that point of inspiration was arduous. This was particularly well displayed when, two weeks before the first tournament, we still hadn't unearthed a piece to compete with. Browsing through books upon books of generic pre-written drivel wasn't getting us anywhere, so we decided to prepare our own piece. YouTube videos and forensics pieces, surprisingly, are very similar in essence, so Emma and I decided to cut a piece from a video called “A Very Potter Musical”. As you can undoubtedly tell from the title, our piece was a musical spoof of the Harry Potter series. Cutting out the relevant parts to use went quickly, but after we finished that step, we stalled out again. One week before the first tournament, we realized we hadn't blocked any movement for our piece yet. Spurred on by panic and the shame of procrastination, we had a marathon blocking session in the basement of Price and Sons Funeral Home. After hours of being shushed by the undertaker, (he was on the phone with a family), building to a crescendo, and then being quieted again, we finally had the movements for our duo planned out. Finally, we penned an introduction to our piece, only a few days before competing. Consequently, neither of us felt prepared to compete by that Saturday. Like a tornado about to raze a Midwestern town, the first meet of the season rolled around with remarkable precipitousness, and our team of socks piled into a school Suburban to drive to Oakley, Kansas. In the midst of the tournament, Summer would briefly emerge from the bureaucracy of the tab room to give us suggestions based on our ballots, but wouldn’t tell us what kind of scores we were pulling. Ever pessimistic, we thought she wouldn't tell us because she wanted to spare our feelings. Despite our apparent deficiencies, we managed to slink onto the list of finalists. With four rounds of hectic competition behind us, the tournament organizers ushered a tumultuous crowd of teenagers into the auditorium for the awards ceremony. Despite having only finalizing our blocking around a week ago, we received first place at our first tournament. With the clarity that comes from retrospection, the realization that the real reason for Summer’s caginess became clear: she didn't want us to know we were scoring well and become haphazard in our performance. On the drive back to Scott, Kevin distributed ballots, and we were overjoyed to see so many positive comments on our selection of piece. We thought this achievement was a good omen for our future. Throughout the season, our early success continued to manifest itself in the form of first and second place medals. An abundance of people appreciated our piece because it was humorous. Comparatively, quite a few of forensics pieces are inanely depressing. In fact, so many people liked it, that a number of coaches requested a copy of the script so they could use it too. Considering that furnishing your stratagems to your adversaries is poor tactics, Summer told them that if they wanted to use AVPM, they’d have to be content to wait a year. Snubbed, thenHolcomb coach decided that she would endeavor to ensure that we couldn't use our piece either. We purchased the script online, which meant that a physical copy wasn't available to us, so she claimed that online publishing didn't meet the criteria that the Kansas State High School Athletics Association requires forensics pieces to meet. KSHSAA rules were pretty lax on defining published, moreover, no one with experience with having a piece challenged was available to illuminate us on the subject. Consequently, the search for a replacement piece began, just in case. Emma and I pored over heaps of new pieces, but none of them managed to hold a candle to AVPM. Fortunately, the Holcomb coach’s accusations rang hollow. The most tense point in the year, NCFL Qualifiers, was upon us. Located in Wamego, this meet would sift the gold nuggets from the mud, and determine who qualified for NCFL. NCFL stands for National Catholic Forensics League. Founded so private schools could compete in a national league as well, NCFL now accepts both public and private schools. Our school joined during the 2012-2013 school year and has qualified people to go every year. Qualifiers are slightly different than an average tournament in a multitude of ways. To start, there's a level of competition that greatly surpasses anything we have in Western Kansas. Another difference is that every round is paneled, meaning that three judges adjudicate every round. To complete the trifecta, some of the schools offer quite a bit more funding for their forensics program our cash-strapped district can afford to. Our first round at NCFL qualifiers went reasonably well, with the notable exception of one judge. Her name was Candy Dao, and we had a history. Every team that competes at NCFL is required to bring judges to help alleviate the burden of the host school. The previous year, one of our judges was sitting in his room, waiting for the second round to begin, when he overheard two boys conversing in the hallway. “If you want to score a one, all you have to do is manipulate the judges. None of them know what they're doing, so it's pretty easy.” Needless to say, when they performed their duo in his room, he wasn’t impressed with them, and gave them a six rating. Coincidentally, Candy Dao was also a judge at that tournament. In a brazen conflict of interest, she had recently gotten engaged to the boys’ coach. Upon hearing about his prized performers receiving a six, he lamented to her about the coach provided by Scott City. Endeavoring to get back at Scott City, she gave Macy Davis a six in retaliation, sabotaging her chances of qualifying with her speech. Apparently, the year-long interval had done little to soften her grudge, and she gave us an absolutely atrocious rating. Furthermore, she covered our ballots with rude comments about what we were wearing and our personalities. Without a personal vendetta to influence their perspectives, the other two judges awarded us honest ratings, however, Candy’s low score depreciated our average for the round. Over the course of the next few round, we continued to receive decent ratings from all our judges. Opposed to round one, no major mishaps transpired. Many of the judges commented saying that, on one hand, our piece was one of their favorites in terms of content. On the other hand, they stated that competition was though at this level. Not a negligee amount of comments said something to the effect of “I know about Harry Potter, but other people might not, so I didn't give you as high of a score.” However, one of our highest ratings came from a lady who said “I've never seen or read Harry Potter, but I really enjoyed watching your piece.” As the end of the round drew near, we overheard that the administrators removed Candy Dao from judging for writing ad hominem attacks on ballots. In complete honesty, hearing that was the most gratifying part of the entire tournament. After the completion of all of the rounds, it was time for finals. Emma and I knew that our ranking was currently right around the cut off for breaking into finals. When a big floppy sheet of paper with duo finalists was hung in the lunchroom, the crowd of jabbering adolescents prevented us from witnessing what was written. After fighting tooth and nail to get close enough, and contending with cantankerous peers, we finally glimpsed that our names, scrawled on the paper in a barely legible script. Thrilled, we returned to our table to tell our teammates. Needless to say, the jubilation we felt was amplified by our team, sharply contrasted with the downcast faces of those whose names weren't posted for all to see. Emma and I performed early in the round. Contented, we sat back down to watch our competition. Seeing the quality of performances we were facing caused our confidence to waver. After the conclusion of the finals, we were tense with apprehension. The awards ceremony had finally come, and the auditorium was brimming with people, anxious to know if they had qualified to take a trip to Sacramento.
In each event, ten people broke into finals, but only the top six would qualify for Nationals. The murmur of conversation ceased abruptly as the announcer appear on stage, apparition like in her swiftness. This was the moment hordes of students were waiting for. Announced first were speeches, followed by solo events, followed by interpretation events. Duo was penultimate event announced, followed only by sweepstake awards. Sitting through the other events only elevated the suspense we felt. When the tournament host’s amplified voice echoed through the room, saying “Duo on deck”, Emma and I joined the line of high school competitors waiting to mount the stage and hear how they placed. The announcer waved us up, and the finalists shuffled up the stairs to stand in front of everyone. The host read off the names of the duo that received tenth, ninth, and eighth place, with applause breaking out after each proclamation. Naturally, next came seventh. Seventh place is the place no one desires, because it means you were almost skilled enough for nationals, but not quite up to par. Placing seventh is like earning a 59% in a class you absolutely need to pass. The silence before the revelation of seventh place was uncanny. You could've heard a pin drop as the announcer said “And seventh place goes to… Haupt and Price.” The crowd applauded, but I'm pretty sure it never registered for either of us. We had worked so hard to get ourselves to this point, but we were a few points away from actually qualifying. The team left qualifiers feeling disappointed and melancholy, with a sense of malaise resting over the Suburbans as we drive
home. After a season that had its ups and downs, I realized how much competition can vary in forensics, depending on where you're currently competing. Although I didn't qualify for nationals, that just gives me more motivation to qualify next year. As a whole, I learned more from that one season of forensics than in any other year I've been a member of the team.
in these three rounds, you move on to the finals (referred to as “breaking”).
As an awkward kid with a penchant for funny voices, I was naturally drawn to forensics in high school. Peculiar people find themselves involved in forensics, much like socks with no match somehow end up in the same drawer. Coincidentally, a forensics meet is the only place you'll see lines of people screeching at a wall, and no one thinking twice about it. To continue the sock analogy, sometimes two socks will realize that, while they don't match, they still work well together. My sophomore year, I paired up with Emma Price to compete in duo, a memorized partner event. That year, we both realized that working together was both more challenging and more rewarding, and we've been doing forensics together ever since.
We also determined that neither of us was very responsible about planning ahead. When we put our heads together and worked on something, the results had the potential for grandeur, but actually getting to that point of inspiration was arduous. This was particularly well displayed when, two weeks before the first tournament, we still hadn't unearthed a piece to compete with. Browsing through books upon books of generic pre-written drivel wasn't getting us anywhere, so we decided to prepare our own piece. YouTube videos and forensics pieces, surprisingly, are very similar in essence, so Emma and I decided to cut a piece from a video called “A Very Potter Musical”. As you can undoubtedly tell from the title, our piece was a musical spoof of the Harry Potter series. Cutting out the relevant parts to use went quickly, but after we finished that step, we stalled out again. One week before the first tournament, we realized we hadn't blocked any movement for our piece yet. Spurred on by panic and the shame of procrastination, we had a marathon blocking session in the basement of Price and Sons Funeral Home. After hours of being shushed by the undertaker, (he was on the phone with a family), building to a crescendo, and then being quieted again, we finally had the movements for our duo planned out. Finally, we penned an introduction to our piece, only a few days before competing. Consequently, neither of us felt prepared to compete by that Saturday. Like a tornado about to raze a Midwestern town, the first meet of the season rolled around with remarkable precipitousness, and our team of socks piled into a school Suburban to drive to Oakley, Kansas. In the midst of the tournament, Summer would briefly emerge from the bureaucracy of the tab room to give us suggestions based on our ballots, but wouldn’t tell us what kind of scores we were pulling. Ever pessimistic, we thought she wouldn't tell us because she wanted to spare our feelings. Despite our apparent deficiencies, we managed to slink onto the list of finalists. With four rounds of hectic competition behind us, the tournament organizers ushered a tumultuous crowd of teenagers into the auditorium for the awards ceremony. Despite having only finalizing our blocking around a week ago, we received first place at our first tournament. With the clarity that comes from retrospection, the realization that the real reason for Summer’s caginess became clear: she didn't want us to know we were scoring well and become haphazard in our performance. On the drive back to Scott, Kevin distributed ballots, and we were overjoyed to see so many positive comments on our selection of piece. We thought this achievement was a good omen for our future. Throughout the season, our early success continued to manifest itself in the form of first and second place medals. An abundance of people appreciated our piece because it was humorous. Comparatively, quite a few of forensics pieces are inanely depressing. In fact, so many people liked it, that a number of coaches requested a copy of the script so they could use it too. Considering that furnishing your stratagems to your adversaries is poor tactics, Summer told them that if they wanted to use AVPM, they’d have to be content to wait a year. Snubbed, thenHolcomb coach decided that she would endeavor to ensure that we couldn't use our piece either. We purchased the script online, which meant that a physical copy wasn't available to us, so she claimed that online publishing didn't meet the criteria that the Kansas State High School Athletics Association requires forensics pieces to meet. KSHSAA rules were pretty lax on defining published, moreover, no one with experience with having a piece challenged was available to illuminate us on the subject. Consequently, the search for a replacement piece began, just in case. Emma and I pored over heaps of new pieces, but none of them managed to hold a candle to AVPM. Fortunately, the Holcomb coach’s accusations rang hollow. The most tense point in the year, NCFL Qualifiers, was upon us. Located in Wamego, this meet would sift the gold nuggets from the mud, and determine who qualified for NCFL. NCFL stands for National Catholic Forensics League. Founded so private schools could compete in a national league as well, NCFL now accepts both public and private schools. Our school joined during the 2012-2013 school year and has qualified people to go every year. Qualifiers are slightly different than an average tournament in a multitude of ways. To start, there's a level of competition that greatly surpasses anything we have in Western Kansas. Another difference is that every round is paneled, meaning that three judges adjudicate every round. To complete the trifecta, some of the schools offer quite a bit more funding for their forensics program our cash-strapped district can afford to. Our first round at NCFL qualifiers went reasonably well, with the notable exception of one judge. Her name was Candy Dao, and we had a history. Every team that competes at NCFL is required to bring judges to help alleviate the burden of the host school. The previous year, one of our judges was sitting in his room, waiting for the second round to begin, when he overheard two boys conversing in the hallway. “If you want to score a one, all you have to do is manipulate the judges. None of them know what they're doing, so it's pretty easy.” Needless to say, when they performed their duo in his room, he wasn’t impressed with them, and gave them a six rating. Coincidentally, Candy Dao was also a judge at that tournament. In a brazen conflict of interest, she had recently gotten engaged to the boys’ coach. Upon hearing about his prized performers receiving a six, he lamented to her about the coach provided by Scott City. Endeavoring to get back at Scott City, she gave Macy Davis a six in retaliation, sabotaging her chances of qualifying with her speech. Apparently, the year-long interval had done little to soften her grudge, and she gave us an absolutely atrocious rating. Furthermore, she covered our ballots with rude comments about what we were wearing and our personalities. Without a personal vendetta to influence their perspectives, the other two judges awarded us honest ratings, however, Candy’s low score depreciated our average for the round. Over the course of the next few round, we continued to receive decent ratings from all our judges. Opposed to round one, no major mishaps transpired. Many of the judges commented saying that, on one hand, our piece was one of their favorites in terms of content. On the other hand, they stated that competition was though at this level. Not a negligee amount of comments said something to the effect of “I know about Harry Potter, but other people might not, so I didn't give you as high of a score.” However, one of our highest ratings came from a lady who said “I've never seen or read Harry Potter, but I really enjoyed watching your piece.” As the end of the round drew near, we overheard that the administrators removed Candy Dao from judging for writing ad hominem attacks on ballots. In complete honesty, hearing that was the most gratifying part of the entire tournament. After the completion of all of the rounds, it was time for finals. Emma and I knew that our ranking was currently right around the cut off for breaking into finals. When a big floppy sheet of paper with duo finalists was hung in the lunchroom, the crowd of jabbering adolescents prevented us from witnessing what was written. After fighting tooth and nail to get close enough, and contending with cantankerous peers, we finally glimpsed that our names, scrawled on the paper in a barely legible script. Thrilled, we returned to our table to tell our teammates. Needless to say, the jubilation we felt was amplified by our team, sharply contrasted with the downcast faces of those whose names weren't posted for all to see. Emma and I performed early in the round. Contented, we sat back down to watch our competition. Seeing the quality of performances we were facing caused our confidence to waver. After the conclusion of the finals, we were tense with apprehension. The awards ceremony had finally come, and the auditorium was brimming with people, anxious to know if they had qualified to take a trip to Sacramento.
In each event, ten people broke into finals, but only the top six would qualify for Nationals. The murmur of conversation ceased abruptly as the announcer appear on stage, apparition like in her swiftness. This was the moment hordes of students were waiting for. Announced first were speeches, followed by solo events, followed by interpretation events. Duo was penultimate event announced, followed only by sweepstake awards. Sitting through the other events only elevated the suspense we felt. When the tournament host’s amplified voice echoed through the room, saying “Duo on deck”, Emma and I joined the line of high school competitors waiting to mount the stage and hear how they placed. The announcer waved us up, and the finalists shuffled up the stairs to stand in front of everyone. The host read off the names of the duo that received tenth, ninth, and eighth place, with applause breaking out after each proclamation. Naturally, next came seventh. Seventh place is the place no one desires, because it means you were almost skilled enough for nationals, but not quite up to par. Placing seventh is like earning a 59% in a class you absolutely need to pass. The silence before the revelation of seventh place was uncanny. You could've heard a pin drop as the announcer said “And seventh place goes to… Haupt and Price.” The crowd applauded, but I'm pretty sure it never registered for either of us. We had worked so hard to get ourselves to this point, but we were a few points away from actually qualifying. The team left qualifiers feeling disappointed and melancholy, with a sense of malaise resting over the Suburbans as we drive
home. After a season that had its ups and downs, I realized how much competition can vary in forensics, depending on where you're currently competing. Although I didn't qualify for nationals, that just gives me more motivation to qualify next year. As a whole, I learned more from that one season of forensics than in any other year I've been a member of the team.